The Nature of Spring
by Cali Rs
Summary: After Lucien and Feyre set the Bogge on Dagdan and Brannagh, Tamlin's wrath can hardly be contained. The night that he destroys the study, he decides to visit Feyre in her chambers. In the aftermath, Feyre isn't as certain of her safety as she once was - even if she remains adamant to become the ruin of the Spring Court.


The lingering image of Rhys warmed my soul as I slid into that unfamiliar bed, longing for my mate's warmth beside me. My body ached from the force of Tamlin's magic, and I wondered if the walls of the manor were under similar duress. He had wrecked the study, the creaking woodwork no doubt hanging somberly from the abuse it'd endured over the past few months.

All for me, supposedly.

I should have felt guilty for inspiring his wrath, but I didn't. I couldn't. It was better than everyone saw him for what he was: the coward that had sold his once vibrant, golden soul to the King of Hybern.

In a way, I pitied him. Fractures of my heart still beat with a gentle love for the brazen beast I'd known before: the one that had swept me into endless dances during the Solstice.

Yet my sheets felt cold and suffocating at the thought of him, itching my skin with the likeness of iron chains, coiled around my body. I pined for Rhys, to see his smile and to replace the tortured memory of him within the halls of Hybern. I wanted to see Cassian and Azriel, Morrigan—to _know_ my friends were safe.

My defiance earlier was one of many ways that I'd gnaw free from my proverbial fetters, and Tamlin would never guess, would never know the depth of my deceit.

Wrapping myself around the dimming tether that anchored me to my mate, I cradled it protectively to my heart as I rolled onto my side, curling in on myself.

Focusing on the distant warmth of Rhys, I drifted off.

A creak in my floorboards forced me to stir well before dawn. Moonlight and stardust spilled through the open window, reminding me of home, and soothing the nausea that would've crept up as it had months ago.

Already, the bruises that had blossomed across my body ached, my cheek tender and purple. But I could not focus on those menial pains—not as a hand slid its way over the sheets to caress my hip.

"Feyre…" he breathed, and I rolled suddenly, my eyes wide.

Tamlin stood beside the bed, his yellow hair tousled. His green eyes reflected none of the finery of a High Lord, but rather the abysmal depths of a beast. My blood ran cold, and the male's eyes swept over the sheets that covered my body.

I swallowed thickly, leaning up as my lower lip quivered, portraying the girl he'd so desperately frightened earlier.

Too late, I realized my error.

Among the evergreen of his stare were wardrums of his skewed, broken loyalty: _protect, protect, protect._ His guilt for earlier was nearly palpable, yet no amount of fear on my face could dissuade him from reaching from me.

I shied against the bed as Tamlin outstretched his hand, unable to resist the natural reflex of my teeth baring against the male.

"Feyre, please," he murmured, the bed sinking as he kneeled on the edge.

"What do you want, Tamlin," I ground the words out through gritted teeth, and the beating of my heart grew faster now. Despite the glamour over my tattoo, I risked a glance to the eye on my open palm. I could feel, distantly, flickers of Rhys' unease through the bond.

"You," he whispered in reply, his eyes lined in silver tears. I recoiled with unbridled disgust, and yet Tamlin did not seem to notice.

I wondered what had happened to the warrior who'd taken me from my home a year ago—I wondered if he was truly so broken by Amarantha that he could no longer process rejection. And I wondered, more than anything, if he understood the irony, the hypocrisy, of it all.

The world had been broken, cleaved apart by a magicless "blight" when he refused to entertain her love, her obsession, with him. And now, he had given himself over to the whims of the King of Hybern—all to win me back, as though I were merely a prize.

My throat closed as his hand slid over the sheets once more, pulling them back. I had deigned to give him idle affections over the weeks since we'd been reunited. I should have known that this, that his insatiable longing, would not be held off for long.

To protect the male I loved, I sealed my walls tightly, sweeping an adamantine curtain across the mating bond, to protect him from whatever might happen. Then, I turned my stare back to Tamlin, masking my distaste with timidity.

"I… I cannot. After everything, Tamlin, you know I—"

"But you're safe now," he interrupted, his words rough as he climbed onto the bed, closer to me. His hand reached out, his knuckles gingerly brushing the bruise along my cheekbone.

My fire itched, thrashing beneath my skin as it yearned to deny his touch. But I remained still: docile as a lamb, aside from the guttering of my eyes.

"I can take it away," he murmured, pressing his face nearer to mine. His lips brushed the shell of my earlobe, his hands traversing the side of my neck, his thumb caressing the hollow of my throat. "The ghost of his touch. I can replace it with mine."

I wanted to laugh, just as much as I wanted to sob. The mating bond flickered with urgency, no matter how frail it'd become with the distance between Rhys and I. Still, I said nothing: to the male panicking through our bond, nor to the one that cradled what he thought was still his.

His hand lowered to between my breasts, his calloused fingertips brushing over my sternum. My teeth clenched, my blood boiling beneath skin that prickled—not from arousal, but from contempt.

Whether he took my silence as permission or not, I didn't know for certain. As his hand lowered to palm over my chest, however, I deigned to give him an answer.

Every power within me roared with outrage, and though the flickering embers of the Autumn Court writhed with their ache to _burn_ him, I opted for the undulating shadows of my mate.

Blackness coiled around us, smattered with fiery stars. Tamlin, so engrossed with the soft skin of my jawline, hardly suspected a thing as it wound around his throat. And then he was gasping, his fangs bared as he jolted, falling away from me. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Tamlin hit the ground, writhing as my power crushed and clawed—the insatiable blackness squeezing the strong column of the male's neck.

And then he was a beast, his black claws tearing from his knuckles, a flash of white accompanying a sudden mass of golden fur. He tore free from the ebony tethers, and I cringed, nostrils flaring. Talons of my own teased behind my skin, but I kept them at bay.

Tamlin snarled as he regarded me, and I tore away from the bed, disentangling myself from the sheets as I stumbled to the ground. With the bed between us, I watched him as he watched me, my eyes wide. As soon as the shadows had come, they dissipated, curling into me. Weeks of safeguarding my mind, and the minds of the Spring Court, had its effect.

I swallowed thickly as Tamlin prowled closer, his emerald eyes blazing like gemstones in firelight. I waited for those teeth to rip into my throat, for those inky black claws to dig into the soft flesh of my arm.

Neither happened.

In another flash of light, he was a man once more—though the wrath in his eyes was undiluted. I backed away until I hit a wall, and his steps slowed.

"Feyre," he whispered, his brow knitting together, a shadow cast over his gaze. "What has he done to you?"

I could hardly contain my breath of relief, though I loathed that lingering insinuation: that Rhys had been the one to do anything to me—as if he hadn't been the one that'd saved me.

"I'm s-sorry, Tamlin," I stammered timorously, my lip quivering as I ushered in memories of the Middengard Wyrm, writhing and chomping in my wake. As I thought of the sound of my neck snapping in Amarantha's hands.

"Shh…" he cooed, his hand lifting to tenderly graze his knuckles across my cheek. I resisted a flinch of disgust, my mind whirring with Elain's screams as she was shoved towards the Cauldron—I blocked the memories out.

Tamlin's hands lowered to gently clasp my wrists as he drew me back towards the bed, coaxing me to lie down. Hesitantly, I complied.

As he drew the sheets back over my body—trembling with rage, not fear—I exhaled a slow breath. At least I had kept him at bay for another night, still.

Regarding me coolly, Tamlin stepped away from the bed. "Goodnight, Feyre," he murmured.

Then, he made for the door.

I immediately kicked the sheets off from around myself, bolting for the bathing room attached to my chambers. I splashed water over my face, letting it drip down the vee of my nightgown and cleanse me of his touch. Carefully, I removed the veil I'd placed over the mating bond.

Rhys was there almost instantly.

 _Are you alright?_ Even the diluted bond couldn't mask his panic.

 _I'm alright, Rhys. I'm safe, I'm alright._

Though I didn't know how much longer it would last.


End file.
